Even the Dogs in the Street Know
by threadfinjack
Summary: In her defense, Ruby's grandmother had called it "perfect weather for a jog." In hindsight, though, she should have known better. Emma's run in the rural countryside of Ireland leads her to far more than she ever bargained for waiting down the lane.
1. Chapter 1

The curved patchwork of Irish road was rain-slicked and steaming, the only remaining evidence of the cloudless sky Emma had stepped out under on her run earlier in the afternoon. In her defense, Ruby's grandmother had called it "perfect weather for a jog." In hindsight, though, she should have known better. Leaving her phone at the house was a mistake.

Her legs had been sore on the first mile, which she'd taken slow on purpose, but Emma had found her pace as the rain picked up. It was always the long flights that left her body and brain in this strange civil war — one was too tired to make any real plans and the other was too wired to do nothing for more than ten minutes. There was no _if_ about Emma's need to run, only a _when_ , and the second their taxi left the Galway airport she knew she'd be gone until dinner.

Granny hadn't minded at all when she stepped out, which was nice. She'd assured Emma it was hard to get lost, so long as she stayed near the road, and that anyone who spoke to her would be able to point her back toward home. She didn't doubt it, knowing how famous her surrogate grandmother was in the little harbor town. She just wished she'd been famous for predicting weather, not for her cooking.

The worst of it had started once she was well out of reach of town. She'd left the main shops and taverns behind as she tried to work herself to the point of mental and physical exhaustion, and each step up the windy hillside was making her regret it. For one, she was soaked to the bone. For another, she had a blister on her heel. The air was still thick with rain, making Emma work to see what was around her. What she could glimpse was beautiful — large, rolling hills filled with pastures and tiny yellow wildflowers, open stretches of tall grass that hid symphonies of crickets, an occasional silo or pond — but it was unrecognizable.

She was in the middle of wondering just how far Granny's fame extended as she heard a rapid shuffling and splashing coming her way. Whoever or whatever it was seemed to be running full-tilt through the road in her direction. Emma tensed as she watched the figure burst through the fog.

A massive, shaggy-looking dog broke into her field of vision, muddy from the chest down. He seemed to already be aware of her presence, even as he zipped past her and splashed more mud onto her clothes. This was a hound on a mission, if she ever saw one, and she'd bet good money it was a mission that led to somewhere dry.

"Hey!" She cried out, her voice still a little ragged. Emma had no intention of adding another mile to her run, but she didn't want to lose sight of the creature. For whatever reason, her gut said chase the dog. "Where are you going, buddy?"

The sound of four wet feet galloping through gravel and puddles answered her, along with a happy bark, and she jogged after him, keeping as much weight off her blistered foot as possible. _Well_ , Emma thought, _at least I can't get any wetter._

She found the dog standing in the middle of a covered back porch of a small cottage. The fog had hidden it as she passed on her run, evidently, and it would've likely stayed that way if she hadn't ventured off the road after her muddy friend. He looked happy to see he'd followed her, long tail swishing high in the air, and when Emma took a couple steps forward he bowed.

"Nice to meet you too," she replied, eyeing the bedraggled being in front of her. His tail swished once as he dropped his hind legs down onto the floor of the porch, and Emma took it as an invitation. He let her pet him at once, shoving his nose into her palm, and didn't budge when Emma sat down on the stairs at his side. The dog obviously didn't mind her company for the time being, and she hoped whoever lived here was just as welcoming while the rain kept on.

Her shoes were the first to come off, shortly followed by the socks that were causing her blistered heels so much offense. Emma sighed with relief when she was finally able to toss her sneakers out of reach. Once that business was taken care of, she turned back to her four-legged companion to consider him more closely.

She reached out again and scratched the fur at the side of his neck, smiling at the happy look on his face. For such a big dog, he had a remarkably graceful way about him. He was massive and wiry, about as long as she was tall from flank to nose, and he smelled like pond water. Emma was almost certain he could say the same of her.

The search for a name tag on his collar almost turned fruitless, no thanks to the dog himself. He kept picking his paw up and setting it on top of her hand when she reached for his neck, trying to keep her petting him instead.

"Just give me a second, okay?" She told him impatiently, fingers finally hitting their mark on a sturdy leather collar. His head jerked to the side as she tugged the metal tags out of his fur, distracted by something behind her, but Emma was too busy trying to figure out his name to notice the movement.

"What the hell kind of name is Eoghan?"

"It's pronounced _Owen,_ actually."

The voice came from across the porch, startling Emma enough to make her jump. In a second she was on her feet, as was the dog. She watched him bound over to greet the source of the voice, her apology for intruding already on her lips, and felt it die the second she met the man's eyes.

He was tall and lean, eyes bright as his hair was dark. He had his arms folded casually as he leaned against the doorframe, blocking Eoghan's escape route, and his eyes were trained on her. Emma wasn't sure if his expression counted as amusement or curiosity, but there wasn't a trace of confusion in them. How long had he been standing there?

"You're soaking wet, love —"

"I'm sorry I'm tresp—"

Eoghan barked again, interrupting them both.

"Hey," the man said, giving Eoghan a stern look. "That's not how we deal with visitors, now, is it?" The dog's eyes turned back to her for a moment, and she could've sworn he actually looked apologetic.

"I'm sorry," Emma said again, already on the retreat. She fumbled for her shoes, trying not to wince at the thought of how her blisters would feel running back to Granny's. "I didn't mean to intrude. He just kind of took me by surprise," she supplied awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

"Don't worry, lass, you're not intruding." the man told her, grinning wide enough to let her know it was definitely amusement dancing in his eyes. It was bright and crooked, and she was suddenly painfully aware of the way her ponytail lay plastered to her neck, how she stood barefoot in front of him. "But since you are here with us, would you mind doing me a favor?"

Emma eventually found it in her to nod.

"Good. Stay put, then, and make sure he stays with you," he replied, shoving off the doorframe and retreating inside. Emma held the echo of his words in her head as she watched the door shut, and considered her options in the quiet that followed. It was unlikely that he was going to call the police on her, given his friendly demeanor, but she still kept a respectable distance from the door to the man's house as she clicked her tongue, beckoning Eoghan back to her.

"You didn't make me come here to get me in trouble, did you?" She muttered to the dog, barely needing to crouch in front of him to put herself at his eye level. Emma wasn't exactly sure where here was, but she liked to think the way he raised his paw to rest on her knee was supposed to be reassuring.

The man came back in less than five minutes, armed with two of the fluffiest towels she'd ever seen. "I'd been wondering where he got off to this time," he said conversationally, as if she already knew what life with this dog was like. "He must've taken a new route today today. Eoghan doesn't usually bring pretty lasses with strange accents back to the house."

She flushed immediately, unprepared for compliments so soon after being caught standing on a stranger's porch, and tried not to notice the way Eoghan's tail wagged in agreement.

"My name's Killian Jones, if you were wondering," he continued, unfazed by her silence as he knelt and wiped mud off the side of Eoghan's flank. "This one's is a Jones as well, but sadly not by blood."

"Emma," she managed back, trying to keep up with his friendly demeanor. Granny had told her strangers in the country were much friendlier than strangers in Boston, but she'd been expecting the polite kindness she reserved for unfamiliar people, not the kind that let her wait out the downpour on his porch and brought her something to dry off with. "You didn't have to bring me a towel."

"I could hardly bring one for him and leave you dripping, could I? Especially not after Eoghan invited you in." The dog's tail swished again, smacking Killian in the side as he moved to wipe more mud from the dog's ribs. The other towel waited for her by his side, tempting her to temporarily forget the peculiar situation she found herself in. It turned out to be the best decision she'd made all day — the towel was as warm and soft as if it had been freshly thrown in the dryer.

Killian looked up at her, eyes sparkling, and she couldn't tell if it was confirmation or not. Emma covered her shoulders in the warm towel and watched him clean Eoghan as much as he could. His broad shoulders worked vigorously as he scrubbed the towel over the dog, and she wondered vaguely what he did for work — whatever it was, it made him ridiculously difficult to look away from.

"If I had to guess, lass, I'd reckon you're not from around here," He remarked conversationally, holding Eoghan's collar to keep him in place. "Visiting family, perhaps, or just touring?"

"Visiting...sort of," Emma replied, pulling the towel tighter around her arms. "Escaping works pretty well, too."

Killian's eyes briefly danced up to hers, and she felt instant understanding in the air. He didn't press her about it, though. He only turned his eyes back down to the task at hand when he felt Eoghan trying to move over to Emma again. "Not yet, you soggy beast," he murmured sternly. "You've got a muddy beard still."

"How old is he?" Emma asked, lips twitching up into a grin of her own. She couldn't help asking, playing off the easygoing mood he had set. He was almost a complete stranger, but she had the strange feeling that she couldn't have picked a better porch to end up on. It probably had something to do with the fact that Granny's house was the closest house for miles, but she didn't linger on it.

"Not quite sure. Our vet tells me he's about four," he answered, soft pride filling his voice as he rubbed part of the towel across Eoghan's muzzle. "And that's nearly 30 in dog years, mind, so it's high time he stopped mucking about in the middle of the day and started doing something with his life." Killian ran the now-filthy towel over his dog's head before slinging it across is shoulder, standing and giving her his full attention again. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Emma felt her no catch in her throat as a distant rumble of thunder sounded over the hills. What was she going to do, amble through the fog with a bum foot until she found Granny's again?

"What kind do you have?"

* * *

Killian shot a warning glance to Eoghan, who was currently stretched out along the full length of the couch. "You're more than welcome to shove him aside if you'd like. He won't take offense."

Emma only nodded and ran her hand over the large head resting in her lap, holding her mug of tea a safe distance away. It hadn't been nearly as difficult as he'd expected it would be, inviting her in, offering to send her clothes through the dryer, convincing her she'd enjoy a cup of unfamiliar tea; he figured a woman willing to run through rain could be stubborn if the occasion called for it. Now that she was here, settled on his couch, wearing his sweatpants and drinking out of his favorite mug — well, someone had certainly earned himself a dog biscuit.

"You said you were visiting someone in town?" He pressed, unwilling to let the sound of the rain grow too loud between them. It wasn't that he felt the need to compete with his own pet for attention from her, exactly. He just wanted to know how she'd ended up on his porch.

"Friend's grandmother," Emma supplied, setting her tea down for a second. "She forces us to take time off every year so we can come and eat a good home-cooked meal."

"Sounds awful," he teased, picking up on the lighthearted tone in her voice.

"It's terrible," she agreed, shifting to tuck her feet somewhere beneath Eoghan's shoulder. "The air is way too clean, the roads are way too clear, people actually want to talk to you if you pass them on the street..."

He had to hide his smile behind his mug of tea, because Killian was sure it wouldn't do for him to be grinning at her so much. He'd always been told that foreigners had appalling senses of humor, and he didn't want her to think she was his source of amusement.

"And running in the rain?"

"Granny told me it was gonna be nice out."

Killian's eyebrow quirked up instantly at the name. It could have been coincidence — many people called their grandmother by such an affectionate nickname — but he wondered.

Rain kept streaming down the bay window as he learned more about her. The more he figured out — that she was here for the week, that she liked his tea, that she was training to run in the Boston Half-Marathon with her coworkers in the fall — the more he wanted to know. She was quicker, though, and she turned the tables on him before he could ask another question about what exactly work meant for her.

"You said you didn't know exactly how old he was," Emma prompted gently, running her fingers through the wiry fur around Eoghan's collar. "Was he a stray?"

Killian pauses, his mug of tea halfway to his mouth. Now there's a story he hasn't told for some time. Most people focused their attention on Eoghan once they were introduced, not the question of his beginnings.

"Not exactly," Killian managed, before Emma could shrink back at his lack of a response. "I stole him."

Emma's fingers stilled for a second, and her eyes sharpened considerably. For a second he saw a much more guarded woman in front of him, but then her gaze softened again. She was giving him a chance to continue.

"I was coming on my way back in from town, passing little houses like mine, and I heard the most pathetic barking I'd ever heard in my life. It was a ways away, but loud, cutting right through the air. I pulled over, walked up the driveway — two cars parked out front, and nobody coming to check on it besides me, mind you — and I see this scrawny little lad chained up in the yard." He indicated Eoghan with a nod and pushed himself to keep going, even though the smile on his face had gone tight.

"He made quite the fuss when he noticed me coming. He was growling, tail wagging, leaping all over the fence and pulling at his rope...quite the spectacle. All that time I kept thinking someone would come out and eat my head off for trespassing. Nobody showed."

"So you took him?"

"Not then. I should've," Killian added, scrubbing his hand across the back of his neck. Even with Eoghan grown and healthy right in front of him, he always regretted leaving him there that day. He didn't need to say the words aloud to know Emma understood him. He could see the way her fingers started moving again, unconsciously comforting Eoghan even though he was completely fine. He was perfectly happy to be warm and dry and inside with the both of them. "The yard looked decently kept-up, and he had a bowl of water with him. I figured it wasn't my business...but I came back and checked on him for about a week. I figured out he was sleeping under that porch."

Emma looked as pained as he'd felt back then, enough that he paused again. For whatever reason, his story was hitting her harder than it had the few others who knew.

"But," Killian pressed on, lifting the corner of his mouth up in a tentative grin, "I was bringing him snacks the whole time. Changing his water out. Even bought him a little toy. All the bribery eventually worked, and he kept quiet long enough for me to slip over the fence and untie him from his rope. After that, we took a little trip to the store, and I let him pick out dinner."

Emma smiled and scratched behind Eoghan's ears, prompting him to shift onto his back and thump his tail against the armrest of the couch. He seemed happy for the attention from their beautiful guest, whose judgment had turned into understanding.

"And you never heard a word about it from the owners?"

Killian shook his head, more thankful than bitter about the fact. "Not a word from anybody. To tell the truth, lass, at that point I would have fought for him if they had. I'd already named him and everything."

Emma had looked on the verge of deciding something through his entire story, and those words seemed to settle things in her mind. She looked much warmer now than she had when he started his story, hair damp and eyes green as the shrubs outside. If his eyes lingered a little too long on her during their journey across the room, well, at least he wasn't staring in open devotion like his dog.

"Why Eoghan?" She asked him, pronouncing it perfectly this time around.

"Ah, now that's a happier tale," He replied, setting down his empty mug. "Once we got home I sat him down, had a nice chat about the rules around here, and I asked his opinion on a few. He didn't care much for Brody, apt as it was, and we both hated Murray. Eoghan was the only one he barked for."

Killian had learned early on that Eoghan was different than any other dog he'd come across. He'd expected him to be just as noisy in his home as he was in the stranger's backyard, but the puppy was quiet as the a cold tea kettle through his first night's stay.

The sound of the dryer finished his story for him, and Killian watched the expression on Emma's face shift. She seemed to be remembering where she was, and no sooner did the thought cross his mind than she started to stand and move to his laundry closet. He wanted to call her back and prolong the moment for reasons he couldn't quite name, but he didn't have a chance to think of anything. Eoghan had hardly pulled himself up off the cushions to follow after her when she returned, running clothes on and the ones she'd borrowed from him in a bundle in her arms.

"Thank you for the tea...and for these," she told him gratefully, if not a little awkwardly. She set his clothes where her seat had been, drawing Eoghan's attention for a moment, and Killian stood with them both, checking the weather out the window.

"How far did you say you ran, love?"

"A few miles, maybe. Why?"

"We'd be happy to give you a ride, if you'd like."

Emma seemed to hesitate for a moment, eyes drifting to the window. The rain had certainly lightened up, but it seemed intent on lingering persistently.

"You really don't need to."

"It's not about needing," he insisted, patting the side of his pocket.

Eoghan caught the sound of jingling keys in his pocket and barked immediately, tail thumping hard against the wall and ears at attention. He loved running alongside Killian whenever they drove somewhere, and the man barely had to take a step toward the back porch before a blur of gray fur beat him to it. "He loves being out in the rain, as I'm sure you've gathered," Killian told her. "Probably thinks he'll get out of a bath, too."

Thankfully, that seemed to put her at ease. Emma followed close behind him as he led her out to the back porch again, and he tried his best to scrub the memory of her in his clothes from his mind as he pulled the cover off his motorcycle.

"Wait a second," Emma stalled, lingering near the door. "You're driving us back on that?"

"You didn't see a car out front, did you?" He grinned, eyes lighting up with mischief. She was making herself incredibly easy to tease, and one glance her way made him sure she knew it. She cut a look at him that let him know she could give as good as she got, and he only needed provoke her a little more to hear it. He liked her more every minute they spent together.

Killian took the helmet off the backseat and stepped into Emma's space, taking the liberty of setting it on her head for her. He took his time buckling the strap, being gentle with her charmingly dented chin, and held her gaze for a beat after he finished up. "Not to worry, lass," he told her, "I'll get you where you need to be."

He settled onto the seat and walked the motorcycle forward a little, waiting to start the engine when they were both ready. Eoghan would take off the moment he did, and he wanted some idea of where they were going. Twisting on the soft leather and patting the space behind him, Killian looked at Emma. "Where to?"

"Granny's is a mile or two to the right," she supplied, filling the space behind him and slowly reaching her arms around his waist. The visible proof of her trust in him didn't escape his notice.

"All right, Eoghan, you hear that?" He announced, speaking loud to get his boy a little riled up. "To the right, we go." Killian started the engine and watched Eoghan bolt down the rain-soaked lane, already out of sight. Emma's arms tightened around him a bit when he picked his foot up off the floor, and then they were gone, too.

Killian could feel it the minute she relaxed and started to actually _enjoy_ the ride. It didn't take long to catch up to Eoghan, who happily kept their pace, and he even made Emma laugh a little when he pushed the dog to race. Driving in a car would have kept them drier, and the rain would have stung less, but he wouldn't have traded the feeling of Emma's arms locked around his waist for much.

"I think it's coming up soon," Emma said in his ear, tugging him from his thoughts. "It's a little gray stone house."

Killian hadn't been certain of where they were headed before, but he grinned as he glanced back at her, leaning his head back so he could be heard. "I think I know the place."

The three of them stood huddled under Granny's small front porch as they knocked, Eoghan shuffling around every few seconds as if he couldn't wait to get inside. Killian had already warned him against doing that, knowing he was already pushing it by lingering around, but Eoghan wasn't hearing it. He seemed to be intent on sticking by her side for as long as possible, even when the door began to creak open.

"About time you showed up. I tried calling once, but I heard the phone ringing down the hall — Emma?"

Eoghan barked twice, barely managing to keep all four feet on the ground at the sight of Granny. Killian reached for his collar preemptively, and found himself slightly amused to see Emma do the same.

"Hi, Granny. Sorry I'm late. I didn't miss dinner, did I?"

"Ruby's just setting the table now," She answered, more interested in the man next to Emma than the woman herself. "Who's your friend?""

"Oh," Emma answered, more flustered than she'd been all day,"Um, Granny, this is Killian. Killian, this is —"

"Come off it, Granny," Killian interrupted her, stepping forward to hold the door so the older woman didn't need to. "You're telling me you've never told the lass about me?"

Emma turned back to stare at him now, ignoring Eoghan's happy barks and completely missing the change of expression on Granny's face. He knew she would have loved to keep the game going, but something told him Emma wouldn't have appreciated it as much as they would.

"I didn't know you knew each other!" Granny protested, settling her hand on her hip. "You got off the plane this afternoon!"

The playful argument about weather and exercise continued well after he and Eoghan made their retreat, but Killian could see the way Emma's eyes pulled toward him every so often. He felt her stare linger on his shoulders as he rode back toward home with Eoghan, and it was long after that that the smile faded from his cheeks. He liked her, possibly more than Eoghan did, and he needed to see her again.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma barely tried convincing herself that spending time with Killian would be a one-time thing. She'd waited for Ruby to launch an intervention all through Granny's dinner, a so-called _Irish lasagna_ , but from her first helping to her second she didn't so much as hear a word. She almost brought him up herself, just to hear Granny explain the connection again, but something in her stopped her before the words could come.

And falling in bed later on that night felt just as amazing as Emma was expecting it to — she'd earned the hell out of it on her run in the rain. She might have even procrastinated a little by keeping Ruby awake with stories from the flight, just so sleep would feel that much more hard-earned.

"No layovers this time?" Ruby had asked, giggling at old memories of Emma nearly spending entire nights in airport terminals, luggage and scarves serving as her pillow and blankets. Emma scowled and scrunched up her nose in response.

"You were the one who booked the ticket at such a godawful time of day," She reminded her, swinging her feet off the edge of the small daybed so she could rummage around in her toiletry bag.

" _Godawful_ is a bit subjective," she responded evenly, sprawling over the space Emma had taken and kicking her feet up in the air. "That ticket was fifty dollars cheaper than the one you tried to buy."

Emma spat out her toothpaste as derisively as she could, even though her friend was right, and when she came back to her room she pushed Ruby's feet out of the air. "As exciting as this conversation is, I need to get some sleep."

Ruby sat up grinning and made her way to the door, flickering the light on and off a couple of times just because it was there. "I'd tell you sweet dreams, but I have a feeling you don't need any help from in that department."

She winked, silently acknowledging the object of Emma's thoughts for the entire evening, and Emma barely had time to turn around and pretend to busy herself with the bedsheets before she felt her cheeks burn pink.

"Goodnight, Ruby," She deadpanned, brushing her hands across the handwoven blankets on the bed. The keys on her nightstand unlocked a home that was thousands of miles away across the Atlantic, but something about Ireland always made her feel like it was waiting for her to come back.

"Nighty night," her friend sang out, flipping the lights off again. Emma was asleep before she heard the door creak shut.

* * *

Emma's plans to wake up early, put her jet lag to good use and cook the family breakfast went south the moment she felt sunlight streaming in on her face. It was bright enough to make her forget yesterday's rain, along with the company she'd made in it, until a loud whacking sound broke the silence.

 _Oh,_ Emma thought to herself, groaning and twisting her blankets around her knees. _That's why I'm awake._

A large, compelling part of her was all for getting up and shutting the door, letting the morning creep by without her taking part in it for another hour or so. A smaller, more reasonable part told her walking across the room was as good as being awake anyway, so she might as well suck it up. Emma groaned again and took her time pulling herself up in bed, wasting a good minute trying to smooth away the wrinkles her pillowcase had pushed into the skin of her arm. The whacking kept on as she traced the indentations, along with the sound of soft voices trailing down the hall, and her it gave her the final push she needed to get out of bed.

She shivered, instantly remembering the chill that Granny's thick bedcovers kept out during the night, and went for her suitcase, digging aimlessly until her fingers found purchase on her thickest sweatshirt. Squinting disdainfully at the rays of sun falling on her empty pillow, Emma wrapped her arms around herself and made her way into the kitchen.

Granny and Ruby were easier to hear once her feet hit the creaky wooden floorboards in the kitchen. The hammering had stopped — of course it stopped now that she was awake — and the sudden quiet had her wondering whether Granny had gone to deal with the offending noise, but Emma wanted caffeine more than she wanted to satisfy her curiosity. She reached for the coffee machine where it usually rested and found thin air instead. _Right_ , she thought a little grumpily. _This isn't Boston._

 _"_ Granny's left tea on the table."

Killian's had appeared out of nowhere, head poking through the open window — except that wasn't right, Emma corrected herself, trying to let her brain catch up with her eyes — the window wasn't open. It was missing.

The man who had taken its place was grinning at her, looking for all the world like he was about to tell her _top of the morning_ in that charming brogue of his and offer to reach through and pour her a mug herself. He filled the room with his bright cheerfulness despite the fact that he was outside, and try as she could to hold onto her travel-induced grumpiness, Emma felt it slipping away.

"Is it warm?"

"It's quite possible. Even if it weren't, Granny's tea is hard to beat."

Emma moved to inspect the kettle resting on the countertop, finding it still hot to the touch, but her mind was focused on his words. Before too long, she couldn't help wonder about them aloud.

"How is it you know Granny so well, but I've never heard of you?"

"Well that's a case of bad luck, to be sure." He leaned forward, settling his forearms on the window sill and taking note of her pajama-clad form. "I asked her the same thing this morning, but she wouldn't give me a clear answer. In fact, she got a bit protective when I asked how you were related."

"Granny's all bark and no bite." Emma poured herself a mug of tea and determinedly hid the blush that crept up her cheeks. The last man who'd heard Granny being defensive on her behalf was long gone, despite all promises to the contrary.

"She cares a great deal about you," he said simply, meeting her eyes in a way that suggested he _knew_ without having to ask.

Emma paused a long moment, considering him. "She took me in when I was younger, even though it was a risky move for her and a hell of a long move for me. Sometimes I even forget we're not related."

He was quiet a while too, watching her expression, and she saw the blue of his eyes softening as he listened to her. It should have felt invasive, but it didn't.

"Aye," he replied gently, not at all prying for further understanding like she was expecting him to. It was the same instant knowing she'd felt with him before, a flicker of kindred spirits recognizing each other under the rays of the new morning sun. He was familiar. "We know the feeling."

"We?"

Killian's crooked grin came back as he pushed off the sill to stand once again, twisting around on whatever he was using to reach the window to survey the landscape. "My mangy cur of a dog is around here somewhere. He's probably convinced Ruby to give up half her breakfast by now."

Emma let a smile grow on her face as she pressed her warm mug of tea to her chest. The affection between this man and his dog was palpable, and while she'd spent less than two hours total in their company, she knew she'd have to be an idiot to miss it. Being allowed to see him loving another being so openly made her feel like she knew him far better than she did. And if Emma had to guess, she figured she'd find little of Killian Jones was hard to understand.

She'd be an idiot to admit Killian wasn't easy to look at, either. He was a lethal combination of plaid flannel rolled to the elbows and three-day scruff, of mumbling to himself when something frustrated him and whining about union breaks when Granny finally did make an appearance in the kitchen. Emma wasn't sure what kind of picture she made in comparison in her sleep-mussed ponytail and old sweats, but it had to be better than yesterday.

One cup of tea turned into two, and soon enough Emma found herself sitting on the countertop, keeping Killian company and holding all the old screws while he fastened the new ones on their hinge. Eoghan joined them before the sun could rise too high, to Emma's amusement and not-so-secret delight. He looked much cleaner than he had the last time she'd seen him, and when she told him so he jumped up and pressed his paws onto the windowsill where Killian had leaned before, stretching to a full height that almost rivaled the raven-haired man standing next to him.

The next few days made it easy to forget she'd just met the Jones men, and if it weren't for Granny's grumbled commentary whenever he came around — f _inally getting around to that, are you? —_ she'd be suspicious that he was making up reasons to come over. By the end of the week she'd picked up a little interest in his tasks, learning what he was doing when the weather kept her and Ruby indoors. When she found herself brushing elbows with him at the dinner table, she learned the way his smile tilted up just a little higher on the side closest to her, too. If she noticed the way Ruby grinned at the both of them while they cleaned the dishes, or the way Granny's eyes lingered on them as she held on to Killian's tools, well, maybe she was just getting reacquainted with rural life. Maybe she'd missed it here a little more than she realized, and having someone new around was making her see it all for the first time again.

"What's the longest you've gone without rain here?" Emma asked, sitting on the floor with Eoghan while Killian laid on his back, head beneath the kitchen sink. He reached down, blindly searching for the smaller wrench that Emma was playing with while they spoke. She handed it to him after realizing what he needed and ignored Eoghan as he nosed her in the ribs, eager for more attention. He'd grown far too comfortable with her, even Killian had said so. Apparently, he used to spend time all over town during the week, visiting neighbors and bothering the local livestock. Now he always seemed to know just when Killian was headed to Granny's, because one of them would always show up within fifteen minutes of the other.

"Couple of weeks," came his reply from inside the cabinet.

"Really? It's rained at least an hour a day since I got here."

"It won't green up outside on its own, love," he replied. She could see the smile growing on his face without having to actually see him. It happened ridiculously often in her presence; she nearly had it memorized. "Galway dries up a bit in summer…you should stick around and see it yourself sometime."

She would have missed the way the cadence of his words changed if it wasn't so quiet in the kitchen, but Granny and Ruby had left for town. Emma felt it the second it happened, fingers pausing along the divot between Eoghan's shoulder blades. For a moment, she let herself wonder _why not_ , and it became very hard to remember her reasons after that.

"Maybe."

Killian was quiet for a second. He seemed to understand that she'd hit her emotional limit for the day, and switched to regaling her with step-by-step explanations of what he was doing and taking the time to show her what he meant when she had questions. Eoghan eventually got fed up with the lack of attention, sighing heavily as he got up and stretched along the floor.

Emma was the first to notice his absence later, once she'd followed Killian out to enjoy the rare evening sunlight on Granny's front steps. A few crickets had found it in them to sing as she stretched her legs in front of her, cradling yet another mug of tea in her hands, and she interrupted Killian mid-sentence to ask where he'd gone.

"Eoghan? He's likely home, lass. He knows his way here and back better than I do by now."

"He usually sticks around this close to dinner, though."

"Emma, he'll be fine," Killian reassured, the corner of his mouth ticking up in amusement at her concern. It made her remember his story once again as she marveled at how well he knew his dog. Their bond of obvious love and trust was infectious, something that made a person want it for their own. Emma had found she'd been learning a lot about what she wanted out of life — all she was waiting for now was the lesson on reaching out and holding onto it.

* * *

Killian killed the engine to his motorcycle at the edge of the driveway, well aware of how late it was and how loud the bike could be. He hadn't been expecting anyone to be awake, but he saw the light on in Granny's living room, giving him the shred of hope he was looking for. Luck seemed to be on his side for once in the overcast night; it was Emma who answered the door.

"Killian?"

She was wearing the exact same set of pajamas he'd seen her in the first day they met, long hair cascading freely down her shoulders this time. He tried not to look as frantic as he felt when he started to explain himself. Putting off checking Granny's until now had been a vain stroke of hope.

"I hate to bother you so late at night, lass, but is Eoghan inside?" He hated watching her expression fall from playful amusement to concern as he rushed the words out. Emma shook her head, lips curling into a frown as she caught up with his words. She'd clearly misread his quick, urgent knock as something more playful.

"He didn't come back?"

"Not for dinner, not after. I've called 'round and I can't find him."

"But doesn't he do this all the time? You told me he loved being outside."

He tried to be patient with her as she asked, but he felt himself clenching his jaw anyway. "This is _different,_ Emma." he told her in a clipped voice, reigning in his tone as much as possible. "Usually, he does, but I wouldn't have bothered you if he'd come back tonight. I haven't seen him since I was here." He wasn't a man shaken by much, but as he stood and explained what he knew to her, he could hear himself straining.

"Killian…" Emma had shrunken back in the doorway a little, clearly affected by his behavior. Clearly throwing up walls he'd just started seeing her drop. _This is your fault_ , he thought despondently, letting his gaze fall to her bare feet. _This is your fault._

"Don't take this the wrong way, but isn't there someone better than me for the job? I don't know my way around as well as you do."

His eyes came up again, hope making a dim, hazy return. "You're a bail bondsperson, aren't you? Back in Boston?" It was the only useful thing he'd been able to think of once he realized Eoghan was gone. He could guide her if she would come and help. He knew she wasn't familiar with the town by dark, but she was who he needed right now.

Emma looked at him, eyes searching deep into his own, and seemed to find whatever she was looking for without much trouble. She stepped away after that.

"I'm only grabbing my jacket," she reassured, holding a placating hand in the air between them. Killian hadn't realized he'd stepped forward until she moved herself, but he tried his best to stay still while he was alone. It was a grueling five minutes he waited, wondering if she was having second thoughts about following him into the night. He wouldn't have expected any less, the way he'd snapped at her. The thought of Eoghan truly lost, or hurt somewhere in the dark that he couldn't be found, was making him lose his sense.

Emma came back later than he'd been expecting her to, a guilty grimace spread across her face. "I wanted to let Granny know where I was headed. It took a while to convince her not to come along," she told him apologetically. Killian knew he should have been happy for the offer of another set of eyes, but something in him felt like Emma was enough.

"Emma. He caught her arm as she moved to pass through the door, blocking her from stepping out onto the front steps just yet. "I'm sorry."

Her eyes turned soft as she moved closer, tugging the door shut behind her with one arm and letting his hand slip down to her wrist with the other. Her hand turned over, fingers skimming across the bottom of his wrist and settling his heartbeat. "I know you're worried. We'll find him."

Eoghan was nowhere in sight, but her words brought him the closest to relief he'd felt for hours.

Emma had him take her back to every place he'd checked before. His house and property, the empty barn a mile down the road, everywhere was just as empty as it had been the first time around. He felt embarrassed, helpless even, and even Emma's steadfast presence couldn't hold his attention for long. Sure, he could keep suggesting places for them to go, and he could keep his eyes peeled while he drove along the back roads of the country for a streak of grey in the night, but all he really saw was the scraggly pup he'd rescued all those years ago.

"We've never truly been apart since I found him," Killian explained later, when they were trailing over the rocky coastline on the other side of town. He and Emma both had flashlights pointed out in front of them, arms stiff from holding them up for so long, but she'd shown no signs of exhaustion yet. "Not an entire night, at least. He was glued to me for the first year after."

"You gave him a home," Emma said quietly, sweeping her eyes over the scrubby, rocky land. "Of course he stuck by you."

"I just don't know what's kept him out here," Killian admitted to her, trying to listen for anything over the sound of crashing waves. "He's hardly delicate, but anything could have happened."

"No," Emma sighed, surprising him a little. "When I get hired to find somebody in the city, it's either because they're hiding or because they're still out there waiting to be found. This is a small town…if something had happened to him, we would know."

It wasn't the most encouraging thing she could have said, but it was honest. Coming from Emma, that seemed to mean a lot.

"So you think he's waiting for us to find him, lass?"

"He was waiting to find you before," Emma shrugged, looking at him the moment he turned his eyes to hers. "Why not this time?"

A faraway bark interrupted him before he could answer, causing him to stumble over his own feet. Emma's head twisted to look at him, her hair whipping his shoulder, and both of them strained to listen again.

"Did that sound like him?" He shook his head and held up his free hand, pointing his flashlight to the source. They didn't hear another bark, and after a minute of staring into an empty copse of woods, he lowered his light. He went to move on, but Emma held her ground.

"Eoghan!" Her echo sounded out across the coastline, traveling out into the relatively quiet night. Killian held his breath in the aftermath, heart falling with every second of silence.

Then the barking started again, and he took off running. Killian could hear Emma's quick stride following after, but he was more focused on the barking, growing louder and louder every moment. His light went everywhere, but hers gave him enough to see ahead.

Eoghan collided with him, knocking him to the ground and whining desperately. He was covered in mud and debris, constantly moving around and stepping on Killian as he tried to get closer. He shoved his face into Killian's chest, licking his cheeks and face, and Killian found it in him to laugh. He let it go on for a good minute before wrestling himself loose and sitting up, and even then Eoghan wouldn't stand still long enough for him to make sure he wasn't hurt. He settled for running his hands through his wiry fur and trying to keep from getting too choked up as he did it. He looked at Emma then, remembering she was close by, and saw he wasn't the only one.

"He's got a few scrapes on his back, but I think he's okay," she told him, reading his mind as she kept her light out of his eyes. "It's a long way to run back home, though."

His motorcycle was waiting for them a mile away. There was no room for Eoghan on it, even without her. He was going to have to run alongside of them all the way across town to get home.

Emma stepped forward and reached out to him, tucking a set of keys into his hand. "Go back and bring my car. A little dirt in the backseat won't hurt," she said softly, as if she knew she needed to coax him to even stand. "We'll go back to where we parked and wait for you."

It took him a minute to extricate his hand from the dog's mud-soaked fur, but he found it in himself to go.

Eoghan was still making soft noises of happiness when they made it back home. Killian put him right into the bath, watching mud and twigs swirl overtop the drain as Emma held him steady, wishing he could know what had happened in the past dozen hours or so.

Emma stayed close, handing him towels and kneeling to take hold of Eoghan's collar and hold him steady. She gave him a small smile that let him know she was remembering the day they met too, that the coincidence wasn't lost on her, and Killian felt the last of his anxiety begin to seep away from him. She knelt on the floor by their sides, taking the time to clean out each and every cut with hydrogen peroxide and a handful of cotton swabs, and the three of them took up every inch of the floor space in the bathroom for a while afterward. Killian stroked Eoghan's back while Emma held his head in her lap, and it took a while for him to remember how late it was.

"Lass, I'd be happy to have you stay if you didn't want to drive. There's a spare room down the hall and the bed's made up." He only lifted his eyes to her at the end of it, unsure of how hopeful he should let himself feel.

"What time is it?" She asked, just barely tearing her eyes away from Eoghan. He was surprised to see her hesitate, and she had his attention. He'd been so caught up in his own worries that he'd missed hers until just now.

Killian glanced at his watch, and then back at her. "Almost three."

Emma sighed and gently lifted Eoghan's head off her lap, standing in the tiny space. He tried not to feel disappointed as he watched her brush a bit of fur off her thighs.

"Well," she sighed, meeting his eyes again, "I guess it's a good thing I'm in my pajamas."

Hope roared in his chest, a happy and victorious thing, and he swore it wasn't coincidence that Eoghan's tail swatted him in the chest.

Killian showed her the spare room and told Eoghan to say goodnight, smiling as he brushed up against Emma's side and licked her hand. There was a strange kind of tightness in the air between them, making it harder for him to convince himself to walk away. She'd taken him seriously when he reached out for help, and she hadn't brushed off his offer when he'd made it. He'd seen her tendency to brush off compliments and kindness, but here and now she'd told him yes.

"Are you sure Granny won't mind you being gone?" He asked her once Eoghan had loped off down the hall, likely seeking out a drink and a spot on Killian's bed. "I know she worries after you."

"I told you already," Emma replied, leaning against the door and looking at him with a sleepy grin. "Granny's all bark and no bite. She'll understand."

Killian wasn't sure if it was the late hour, or his senses playing tricks on him, but he thought he saw her shift a little. He had no idea how much longer she planned to stay in Ireland, but that wasn't what made him step closer to play this game of distance with her. It was just the urge to seal the distance between them, the same one he'd been feeling since she showed up sopping wet at his door.

"And what about you, love?" He asked quietly, his voice dropping a little lower, his eyes flickering down to her lips for the briefest moment.

"Am I all bark and no bite?" She asked playfully, pushing off the wall and swinging into his personal space just an inch further. He could smell the night lingering on her hair and wet dog on her skin, and he was near drunk on it.

He shook his head and reached up to push a lock of hair behind her shoulder, fingers brushing the side of her neck and lingering there. "Do you mind?"

"Not a minute of it."

Emma smiled again, purposefully waiting for him to move, and he swept the pad of his thumb along her jaw. He barely moved to lean in and kiss her, and then she gave in and responded. It was a sleepy, tentative kiss. His hand barely moved to cup her cheek, just as hers barely rested on his chest, but soon enough he got caught up in the affection he could feel emanating from her. He responded doubly in kind for as long as she let him, wrapping an arm around her waist and changing the angle, letting a quiet sigh fall from his lips when hers wound into his hair.

"You should get some rest. It's late," he whispered.

Emma nodded, ducking to hide a yawn in his shoulder. He loosened his hold on her to let her go and moved into his own bedroom, glad to see Eoghan had left him some room on the bed. He fell asleep content and eager for the morning, unperturbed by thoughts of the future. There was still plenty to fix in Granny's house — especially since Emma kept breaking them over again to bring him back.


End file.
